I don't want to pepper anyone else."
But Bodson and Moore, bad as they were some respects, stood their
ground.
"Are you going to let us at them?" insisted Duff, his voice now broken
and harsh from anger.
"Not for the purpose of bullying them!" insisted Rafe, without moving.
"Jeff, you're with me, aren't you?"
"Right by your side, pardner."
"Come on, then, boys!" called Duff, the note of rally in his tone.
"Help me to drive this pair of traitors out of your company."
Like a flash Bodson's revolver was in his band. The muzzle covered the
gambler.
"Jim Duff, down on your knees before I blow your bead off!"
The gambler started back, his face paling.
In the same instant Jeff Moore had also drawn his revolver, and held it
ready for the first hostile sign from anyone in the group.
"What's the matter with you, Rafe?" demanded the gambler, in a half-
coaxing tone.
"Nothing," Bodson assured him calmly, "except that I'm going to blow
your head off if you aren't down on your knees before I've counted
three! One--two--th--"
Duff dropped to his knees, holding his hands high in air.
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